The Intervention
by sherlollymouse
Summary: Angsty Sherlolly. Sherlock has actually fallen off the wagon this time. The trigger is a secret only Molly could reveal.
1. Chapter 1

"How did I know?" Sherlock was pushed into the living room of 221B as as he and John entered the flat. The latter was furious. "I thought we were past this, Sherlock."

The detective was staring at the floor as his brother walked in from the kitchen.

"Your fan club had enough time to flip this place over while you were getting sorted at Scotland Yard and hospital."

"Did they find anything?" John's neck was a bit red.

"Surprisingly, no." Mycroft turned to Sherlock who was completely motionless, staring at the floor. "Proud of yourself? This is going to be all over the papers." When the younger Holmes didn't respond, he continued. "I'm told he was too high to even get up."

"Yeah, in fact, he's probably still high, but he wouldn't stay in the hospital."

'Nothing to say for yourself, little brother?"

"Shut up, Mycroft." He growled under his breath, his voice a bit gravely and tired.

"No, you don't get to tell us to shut up, Sherlock." In a fit of rage, the usually controlled detective turned to kick the coffee table beside his friend and then made quick work of overturning his desk as well. "What the hell is your problem?!'

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He threw a book and smashed the mirror above his mantel, shaking. Whether that was from the drugs or anger, none of the men really knew. John and Mycroft were debating, through facial expressions, over how exactly to proceed when a feminine voice filled the room and bought all three mens attentions.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" The normally mousy pathologist scoffed in disbelief and lowered her volume, but not intensity. "Look at you."

"Molly?" The man looked genuinely confused. "Who called you?"

"You did actually. Last night…. well, you texted." Sherlock pulled out his phone and, through blurring eyes, found his history and raised his eyebrows at the results. "Yeah, I was shocked, too. Bit racy." He seemed to make a move toward her. "You hit me, Sherlock Holmes, and I'll do a hell of a lot more than hurt you." As he brought himself to a jerky stop, Molly stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the dirty druggy. "Did they find it, yet?"

"Find what yet?" John asked.

"He has drugs here in the flat." Still staring at him, she started talking to him again. He actually looked ashamed. "You've been high for damn near a week now, haven't you?" When he didn't respond, she smacked him and repeated herself more angry and demanding. "Haven't you?!"

"Yes." He wasn't looking up at her.

"Jesus." The doctor hissed and sighed. "Well, where is it, Sherlock?"

"Go get it." Molly demanded. "Put it on the kitchen table." Scratching his head, he finally moved in a nonviolent way. Dragging his feet over to the fire place, reaching up and pulled out a box. He set it on the table and turned to move the AC unit the kitchen under the window and brought out even more drugs to place with the rest before sitting in front of them and staring off into space again.

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but defiantly, Molly raised her hand to stop him and stepped into the kitchen doorway.

"Do you feel better now, Sherlock?" The man closed his eyes and faced away from her. "Because thats what matters most, doesn't it? How Sherlock Holmes is feeling because we all know sentiment makes you weak and distracts you. Forget about anyone else, especially me. No, no, no, forget Molly. Thats too complicated. Thats too much. Talking to her now would hurt too much why even try to be there for her. It doesn't matter that she's always been there for me."

"Molly." It was a soft, pleading statement.

"What? You need me?" Tears of rage welling up her eyes. "I'm the one that mattered most?" She snickered. "Obviously, I don't mean that much because you would rather kill yourself than talk to me." From the chair, he turned his head, but didn't raise it to meet her eyes and she could see some twitched in his face. "Oh, NOW, you're embarrassed." The tears were stead flowing and uncontrollable now. "I'm the great Sherlock Holmes, I don't care who sees me stoned out of my mind, but god forbid anyone know I actually love someone. Or, ya know, that I did or even thought I might. How very embarrassing for you, Sherlock, how on earth will you face your friend and brother again? I can't imagine." Even though she knew her words were stinging him, she couldn't stop. "You know what? This is the first time in weeks that I am relieved I lost the baby, because I would hate to imagine my child ever seeing their father like this!"

"Stop it!" He slammed his hands on the table and gave her his full attention. She'd pushed a button.

"I don't think your mourning, Sherlock, I think you feel guilty because you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders when I lost him. You were relieved you wouldn't have to acknowledge or confirm that anything happened between us. Because that would mean that you lost control and gave in to the feelings you spent ages divorcing yourself from. Loving me is different than how you love John and god knows that took a long time for you to accept and acknowledge, but I deserve to be loved and acknowledged. Loving me should not be something my partner wants to hide or is embarrassed about."

"I'm not embarrassed, Molly." His expression and voice was softer now as he stood up and approached her. When he was toe to toe with her, he began to lean in and was met with a smack.

"Don't kiss me high. You smell vile. Go draw a bath."

"—I don't know how to apologize for this." She looked him up and down.

"Go draw a bath. I'll be in in a minute." His face questioned her. "Well, you're going to need care through your detox. I'm still…. on my leave of absence. John has work, Mary has the baby and Mycroft can't stay here with you." There was a long pause, but Molly ended it by raising her arm and pointing into the hallway. Her voice authoritative and unwavering in great contrast to her red, tear soaked face. "March!" Sherlock only hesitated a moment and then made effort to pick up his feet as he slumped back to the bathroom.

Molly didn't look up at the two men, she didn't want to see their faces. Honestly, she hadn't wanted anyone to know about the miscarriage. It'd happened a bit late, but early in the second trimester just before she hit fifteen weeks.

"I take it you two will dispose of all this properly." she motioned to the table and Mycroft cleared his throat.

"Of course." He didn't respond further.

"Molly, Jesus. Why didn't either of you tell us?" John's question was ignored as she walked back to nurse the broken man child. She didn't know what to expect from Sherlock, but she knew she needed to be close to him. If she was honest, though, she needed a lot that he would probably withhold from her. Molly resigned herself to thinking that physical closeness would have to do before she even opened the bathroom door and the two men left.


	2. Chapter 2

After nearly a month of silence, for many reasons, John assumed, Sherlock finally texted him himself.

**There are things in your former bedroom I need you to take care of for me. - SH**

**What are you talking about? I cleared my things out ages ago. - JW**

He received no response, so he continued on with his work day. After several patients, he finally got another text, but this one was from Molly. She'd texted him several times over the month to let him know she was still with Sherlock and what was going on with him.

**John, we'd consider it a personal favor if you took care of things we had stored in your old room for us. - Molly**

**Bring your car when you come over and text me first. - Molly**

Sighing, he agreed. Wondering what in bloody hell was up there.

After work, he went straight to 221B, forgetting to text first. When he walked into the flat he found both of them sipping tea in the kitchen in silence.

"Whats going on?" Sherlock didn't respond to his friend, he got straight up and went back to the bedroom, slamming the door. "What the bloody hell did I do?"

"You said you'd text first." Molly explained, and guided him to the stairs. "We… uh… neither of us could." She choked a bit.

"Alright, Molly, alright. Whatever it is, I'll take care of it." She nodded.

"Just donate what you can't use, we'll be in the bedroom… if he'll let me in." It suddenly hit John what may be in the other bedroom and when he reached the top of the stairs it was confirmed. Sherlock had started putting together a nursery. All the basics were there, but he didn't seem to have had time to buy everything. He must of started buying things when Molly hit her second trimester, he realized. She'd confided in Mary how far along she'd been.

**Sherlock was building a nursery. - JW**

**I thought maybe, but I really hoped not. Are they doing alright? -Mary**

**Considering, I suppose. - JW**

He envisioned his wife holding their baby and griping her just that much tighter as she texted him with her free hand.

—

A few hours later, John had everything broken down and cleared from the room, they seemed to have realized this and the couple had made their way to the living room, he heard them as he made his way up the last flight.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, Sherlock. You obviously need it, too, or you wouldn't have bought it." Politely, John tapped on the door before opening it.

"I cleared everything out."

"Thank you so much, John." Molly gave him a tight hug.

"Will you come with us?"

"Molly." Sherlock sounded annoyed.

"No, it'll be good for you." She insisted. "John, please come with us."

"Alright." This wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be he last, he was certain, he'd be following Sherlock to god knows where so he followed them downstairs and joined them in the taxi. He didn't ask questions, he honestly didn't feel like he should even speak. Besides, while the taxi ride did feel like it took forever, it wasn't a painfully long time.

It was after dark, so it took him a moment to recognize the graveyard where he had thought Sherlock had been buried those two years he was gone. They asked the taxi driver to stay and made there way through the dark graveyard and stopped by the detectives tomb stone. It took John a moment to find it, because it wasn't very big, but a little grey tombstone set directly adjacent to the large black one.

Hamish John Holmes

It read. Molly was clinging to Sherlock and crying into his forearm, sporadically kissing him. She was obviously in pain, but slightly pleased. It didn't take her long to notice Johns questioning glances.

"He bought it the day he ran off. I answered the phone when they called to let us know it had been placed and everything." Sherlock didn't move, he just stared at it for a very long time and no one dared break the silence, they just waited for him to.

"Can we go now?" It was a request, but it could have easily been plea, Molly's only response was a kiss and a nod before guiding him back to the taxi. John wasn't sure, but he could've sworn he saw tears in his friends eyes as the street lamps of London flew by, casting a glare in them.

"If you two need anything Mary and I can give, just— uh— let us know." He made sure to tell them as they were separating for the evening. They had both nodded, arms around each other, before heading inside the Baker Street flat.

**Did they tell you?- Mary**

**Tell me what? -JW**

**They're talking about possibly trying again. - Mary**

**What? So soon? - JW**

**No, no. They're thinking about thinking about it. Understand? She's making him talk more. -Mary **

**I think so, yes. That could be good. Glad this didn't scare them off forever, they obviously wanted the baby. - JW**

**They named it after me. - JW**

**Yes, he did. - Mary**


End file.
